


If You’d Only Look My Way

by Kay_jay88



Series: Reader-insert [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Barista Reader, Cafe AU, Café, F/M, Grab some tissues folks, Heartbreak, Multi, Pining, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Third Person POV, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, and maybe some popcorn, first time writing in a third person perspective, reader POV, reader is a main character, this is a really random idea, this’ll take awhile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22084966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_jay88/pseuds/Kay_jay88
Summary: His plush, velvet-like lips curl at the sides as he flashes you his own dazzling easy smile, his impossibly white teeth practically blinding you.“Okay, you got me.” He chuckles...With full view of him now, you can see how easily a man like him would stand out against the crowd of broke college students and tired professors. The white shirt that he’s wearing is soft looking with a silk like texture, tucked into a pair of dark slacks. Very business casual. Very much out out of your league.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Mark Tuan, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: Reader-insert [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589665
Kudos: 7





	If You’d Only Look My Way

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of came to mind and wrote itself...heh. I’m not too sure if this is an entirely original idea but I have seen one like it in this fandom yet(?), so I’m hopeful that you guys will enjoy it just as much as I had fun writing it.
> 
> Anyways, yay for 2020!

Customers airily chattered about in the small sunlit café you worked at, their conversations hardly decipherable over the pop music that lightly played in the tiny building. Your shift had only just begun but you felt time already start to slow as you wiped down tables and tucked in stray chairs and stools. The hour is earlier than you’re used to working, having rescheduled your hours to accommodate your university classes of the new semester, not that many people came by around this time anyways, making your shift a lot more tedious than usual.

Although there wasn’t much to do at the moment, the light buzz of people and music calmed you, mildly releasing the stress and tension you’ve been building in the last couple of days. You are a hard worker and you take pride in being one. But lately you’ve started to realize just how thinly you’ve been wearing yourself down juggling your art, school, bills, and your part time job all at once. The toll of it all was finally catching up to you and you know it. You feel it grow with each day that passes.

You know this isn’t healthy and that you’ll probably crash and burn by the end of it, but what can you do? You’re only taking the hand life dealt and making the most of what you can.

When life gives you lemons, you’ll squeeze every drop that you can out of it.

With tables cleaned, floors swept, chairs tucked, and patrons served, there was nothing else left to do. You try busying yourself behind the cash register, sketching random things you’d see outside the café windows on a notepad you found sitting at the side of the till. Buses, cars, cats, dogs, people, whatever you found interesting or caught your attention, you drew.

You’ve always found the scenery outside of the café beautiful, it was one of the reasons you decided to work here to begin with. Minus the fact it was the only hiring place close to your apartment and university, located smack dab in the middle of both. As you admire the same view, like countless times before, you’re always aware of its changes. Sometimes it’s in the subtlest of ways that it pales in comparison to the bolder parts of the scene, at other times, it sticks out like a red rose in a bed of white daisies. The one thing that you revered in more than the visuals was the energy of the place. How it unfailingly emits life, whether it’s from a person to a moving car, the motion of thriving liveliness fills you with a sense of inner peace. Knowing that this aspect of the ongoing world just on the other side of the door never seems to change, like a constant flow to the ever altering reality.

You’re half way through sketching a bouquet of roses you’d seen a man carrying as he passed by the glass door of the café, hurrying along the sidewalk in a rush with his tie hanging loose and belt buckle swinging this way and that. You giggle to yourself at the memory, your blue pen barely scratching the surface of the notepad as you shade in the last rose’s outer petals.

“You’re really good.”

“Well, I better be.” You reply, turning your attention away from your mini doodle to the stranger with a friendly smile. “Or I can kiss all my hopes and dreams, not to mention my Arts degree, goodbye.”

You cringe at your sad attempt of a joke. If you can even call it that.

The Asian man laughs, or you think he does. The sound that slips through his lips border between a squawk and wheeze, creating the strangest of noises that you’ve ever heard a person make in the entire twenty-two year’s of your life. You’re a little surprised he found it funny at all. But it was a unique laugh to say the least.

The few customers lounging around the café curiously turn their heads in your direction, their conversations quieting down for the uncanny racket the stranger in front of you made. Your cheeks heated at the sudden attention. Unsure of what to do that didn’t consist of gawking at the newcomer’s awful cackle like the rest of the café, you instead decided it was the better to awkwardly join him with your own soft titter. You’re hopeful that this would end their curiosity and possibly direct their unwanted stares elsewhere.

“I’m gonna take a guess and assume you’re not here to give me compliments on my undeniable talent.” You quip to ease your edginess, flipping said page of the notepad over to a blank sheet. Leaving the corsage of roses unfinished. You try to offer him a easygoing grin but the corners of your mouth feel tense and strained. You’re sure you look something like the Joker at this point. “What can I get for you?”

His plush, velvet-like lips curl at the sides as he flashes you his own dazzling easy smile, his impossibly white teeth practically blinding you.

“Okay, you got me.” He chuckles, this one considerably more normal than the first. “I’ll take a grande green tea mocha and a medium caramel crunch frappe to go, please. Oh, and light whipped cream for the frappe.”

You quickly jot down his order before punching it into the till. You found it odd that your boss insisted that all orders had to be written out instead of just logging them into a system, making serving customers during rush hour far more complicated than it needs to be. “Will there be anything else?”

He tilts his head to the side, giving the menu hanging above the counter a swift once over. A low hum vibrates from him as he lightly taps his index finger on the bottom of his chin. “There’s quite a few options.”

He’s certainly handsome, you note, a boy next door kind of charm oozing from him with his inviting smiles and affable persona. The kind of guy one would find in those sappy, cliché teen novels playing the happy and easygoing jock that doesn’t realize he’s missing something until he inevitably meets the girl of his dreams. A plain Jane girl who’s managed to capture his gaze and somehow becomes the love of his life after one cornily written encounter with her.

How funny would it be, you ponder, if this very day was planned out and written just like those absurd fairytales? Falling for a man out of your league and to have the lead, coincidentally, reciprocate those feelings upon your first meeting? You mentally shake your head, scolding yourself at the idea. This was no hormonally driven teenage novel, directed towards lovesick girls looking to fulfil they’re romantic fantasies through another’s eyes. No. Definitely not.

‘Don’t kid yourself.’ You think, you’re no heroine and he’s no Prince Charming coming to sweep you off your feet. He’s a paying customer who’d probably rather make out with that muffin idly sitting in the glass casing before he’d even bat an eyelash at you. That, and you aren’t even in high school anymore.

You’re both mature and grown adults leading different lives.

Plus, who’d in their right mind would go for a broke, ragged art student like yourself? Not when said customer looked to be on a whole different level than you are.

You bid away the thought of fictional romance, giving yourself a mental slap for good measure.

“Our muffins and bagel are handmade and brought out fresh from the oven every morning.” You offer, gesturing to the array of incased baked goods by your side. “They’re almost always gone by eight.”

“Yeah? I guess I’ll take a bagel then.” He adds after a moment of consideration, taking a second to reach into his pockets. He pulls out a black, gold rimmed card and waves it in his hands, drumming it on top of the counter before placing it above the tap screen. “Oh, and you can put it on this card.”

The card he held was expensive as hell, you could work several different jobs everyday for the rest of your life and still not make enough to even be eligible to own one. He’s definitely living the so called, ‘comfortable life for the privileged.’

You raise your brows but say nothing.

The difference between the two of you is much more apparent now than it was before. He had everything, the looks and wealth.

The whole god damn package, huh.

Really, you sigh, life’s too unfair.

You pull out a two cups from behind you before swiftly plucking a sharpie from inside the pocket of your apron. You ready the marker just above one of the cups, jotting down the respective drinks on each cup. “And who will I be making the orders out to?”

“Wang for the mocha and the frappe is for Park.” The man says offhandedly, eyeing the different trays of bagels aligned inside the glass casing. “And can I get a whole-wheat bagel, please? Can you go easy on the butter too?”

“Okay, coming right up.” You voice as you scribble down the names on each cup, being mindful to add a ‘LW’ to the frappe. You scrawl down the rest of his order while punching in the cost of each on a calculator. Setting both empty cups aside, you quickly slid the glass casing beside you open and grabbed at the first whole-wheat, low carb bagel he ordered to throw into the toaster oven. “It’ll take a couple minutes, feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

While the round bread toasted, you take out a bar of butter from the mini fridge at the bottom of the back counter, setting it aside for later. Almost immediately, you start assembling the sweet drinks with practiced ease. Effortlessly measuring the amount of milk and matcha powder, coffee and whipped cream. Combining and stirring ingredients together is not as easy as it looks, measurements had to be as accurate as possible or each beverage you serve will turn out tasting different. The café prided itself for continuously achieving the same consistency of flavour, after all, no matter how many times one would order it, every employee had to uphold the café’s prestigious record and you weren’t about to break it now.

Needless to say, you take extra care not to drizzle the caramel outside of the frappe before sprinkling crushed peanuts on top.

With the drinks finished, you turn your attention to the toasted bagel waiting to be buttered, taking it out of the toaster and lather a small amount of the yellow spread on each slice. You drop it into a white baggy once you’re done, placing on top of the pickup counter.

“A green tea mocha and caramel crunch frappe with a whole wheat bagel for Wang and Park!”

You watch as the handsome Asian man from earlier saunters his way to the counter, each step of his light and soundless, almost as if his feet never even touched the ground. Is that even possible?

With full view of him now, you can see how easily a man like him would stand out against the crowd of broke college students and tired professors. The white shirt that he’s wearing is soft looking with a silk like texture, tucked into a pair of dark slacks. Very business casual. Very much out out of your league.

“Thanks!” He says once he reaches the counter, grabbing for the bagel just as you hand him both of the drinks that were sitting beside you. Thus, leaving you to stand with both drinks hanging in the air, awkwardly holding them out towards him.

“Oh. Uh, sorry. I should probably grab you a tray for this.” You chuckle, drinks still in your hands in midair, just dangling in between the two of you. Rigidly, you place the cups down. “I’ll get that for you right away.”

God, why were you so awkward?

“Here you g-“

Just as you turn to give him his tray, your feet decided it was a good time to get caught onto the edge of the nonslip matts. With your balance off and gravity working against you, you attempt to steady yourself, grabbing ahold of the countertop. As you did so, the cardboard tray escapes your grasp, sliding it’s way over the counter and through the cups sitting on top of it.

The spill goes everywhere, knocking itself all over the place. Especially on the customer’s white, probably very expensive, shirt.

Fuck.

“Oh my gosh-! I’m so sorry!” You gasp, frantically righting yourself back up, arms gliding across the counter in your attempt to catch yourself from the mess of sweet caffeinated drinks all over it. “Are you okay? Oh god, what am I saying? Of course you’re not! I’m so so sorry! Ack! It’s all over the place! Oh gosh, your shirt-”

Oh god, what’re you gonna do? Who could this happen? Of all times-

“No, it’s fine. Really! It’s fine.” He assures, quickly dabbing at his front with the complementary napkins placed beside him. “More importantly, are you fine? The drinks are still fresh and probably super hot, I only got a bit on me, but it’s all over your arms. Are you okay?”

‘A bit?’ You thought as you look back at him, confused as to why he was asking you if you were okay when he was the one covered in it until you took a glance at your own arms. He was right, they didn’t look too good. They were all red, probably scorched and burned from skidding around in the hot beverages.

“I’m-ah, I’m good.” You reply, taking some the napkins to wipe off the mess you made. “I don’t even feel it. See? No pain.” Which was partially true, considering it a mild feeling compared to the embarrassment you’re experiencing right now.

You really don’t want to know how many people in the little café has witnessed your stupidity. How people are watching the scene you’ve created.

Really, fuck your life.

You checked him over just to be sure he’s actually okay, which was one of your many ever growing mistakes.

The light fabric of his shirt was almost a second skin on him, clinging to his unbelievably sculpted torso in the most attractive of ways. Your eyes almost fall from their sockets at the clear sight of muscles, brain short circuiting as your gaze trails along each crevice and bump of his body and, oh god, what a body. The drink seeping through his shirt left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

You’re pretty sure that, at this point, he cannot be human, because come on, no person looks like a statue from Greece carved by some great Greek artisan. Who in the world is born looking like an Adonis? God is so unfair.

You hope, in silence, that you aren’t catching any flies with your mouth right now.

“Are you sure?” He questions, worry painting his godlike face. “That looks like it hurts. Your arms’ all red, maybe you should run it under cool water. Don’t run it under cold though, it’ll damage the tissue.”

“Yeah, okay.”

While you proceeded to follow his advice, you catch him cleaning up the spill with more napkins that he took from off the counter, swiping up the sticky liquid that manage to spread across the flat surface. It was a big mess and if you were being honest, you highly doubted that a few measly napkins could do the trick. But, you appreciated the kind effort.

Not only is he incredibly hot, he’s also nice too. The list of how one sided life is just keeps on growing, doesn’t it?

“That’s okay, you know. Just leave the mess to me. I’ll clean it up and remake your order ASAP.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re hurt, I’d feel real bad if I left you to clean this all up by yourself. What kind of guy would I be if I did? It’s somewhat my fault anyways..” He scratches at his right ear sheepishly, puppy like eyes wandering off somewhere along the countertop.

“No, it was my fault. I spilled the drinks so I made the mess.” You say, grabbing a clean rag from beneath the sink to help wipe up your mistake of the day. Fortunately, the brown spill had cooled down enough to clean without having to burn yourselves some more. “How much, by the way?”

The customer tilts his head to the side, a confused look made its way onto his features. How cute.

“For what, exactly?”

“Your shirt. How much do you want for your shirt? It probably cost a bit, am I right?”

“Oh, this? No, no, no. You don’t have to, have lots of it. It’s only a shirt, there’s no need for you the put out any money for it. Besides, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Let’s say you add in a carrot muffin and we’ll call it even, ‘kay?”

“Seriously?” You’re not convinced that he means what he’s saying and you voice your concern.

“Yeah, just give me that one over there, then we’re even.”

You give him a second glance before doing exactly as he asked, placing the muffin in another white bag for him and hand him the bag.

“Thanks for the treats. I guess I’ll see you around, then.” He says as he turns to walk away with his small paper bags.

“Wait, what about your drinks!?”

“Save it for the next time I come around.”

You really hoped not as he gives you a single wave goodbye. You waved back with your spine straight and your arms stiff, still somewhat dumbfounded by him. You send out a small prayer to whatever god that was up there, praying that this awful encounter would be the last time you’d see this handsome man.

Pretty please, for the love of God, all you ask is to save whatever little shred dignity you have left…

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if there’s anything that needs fixing or if any of the wording seems off. 
> 
> Btw: can you guess who our main lead is??? (•.-)
> 
> Comments are always welcomed and appreciated. Don’t be shy! Let me know your thoughts! ~(^.^)~


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